


Tiny Avengers Adventures

by TheBelfry



Series: Ridiculous Avengers Things That Never Happened [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, WTF, picking and choosing, really this is just a ridiculous thing that never happened to them at all, the raven, there is Bucky, there is no ultron, this is not even a story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22127311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBelfry/pseuds/TheBelfry
Summary: The world is a big place when you’re only 10cm tall.Tony does what Tony does.Steve has survivor's guilt.Bucky has no regrets.Loki feels deep satisfaction.Thor has an adventure.And there's a raven out there just asking to get its feathered ass kicked.
Series: Ridiculous Avengers Things That Never Happened [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592767
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Tiny Avengers Adventures

**Author's Note:**

> This was never going to go anywhere, but what the hell. Sometimes a body's got to just share the ridiculous head pictures with the world. Right?

Tiny Avengers Adventures 

The world is a big place when you’re only 10cm tall. 

Tony is a problem solver. 

And, as far as he can see, waking up ten centimeters tall, well, that’s a problem. His first order of the day when the tiny Avengers finally made it back to the tower was for a delivery from the best dollhouse company in New York City. His second was for delivery coffee and donut holes. 

Dum-e didn’t even spill the coffee while spooning it into Tony’s tiny I <3 NYC mug. 

The raven, or maybe another raven, but let’s face it, probably the same asshole raven as yesterday, is on the landing pad when Dum-e wheels out, preventing Tiny Tony from making some much-needed vitamin-D with his shrunken skin. (Which he is not thinking about. Nope, nope. A significantly less immediate problem for another day.) 

Tony eyes the raven through the window, over his first coffee of the day. The raven eyes Tony, but shuffles a reluctant handspan further away when Dum-e waves its arm threateningly in the raven’s direction. Tony takes another long pull from his extra-extra-really-super short Starbucks. 

“You picked the wrong team of superheroes to mess with,” Tony tells it conversationally, ignoring the fact that it only seems to want to mess with him. The raven tilts its head.

See, the third thing Tony did once he had a lab bench to size again was to begin work on a twelve centimeter Iron Man suit. Sure, stripped of weapons and with a remote control unit, he’s pretty sure it’s going to become the biggest toy hit of the twenty first century. 

But the version he’s working on is fully operational, tiny arc reactor and all. 

If he’s still this size by the time Jarvis finishes fabrication, that raven is going DOWN. 

But for now, safely on Dum-e’s tray attachment, looking at the great asshole of the skies through double-paned reinforced god-proof glass, Tony’s content to be the bigger man. “Shoo,” he tells the raven. 

The raven doesn’t budge. 

“Next time,” Tony says, “you’re fricassee.” 

Thor doesn’t mind the ravens. He flies high above Brooklyn on a pigeon: “Onward, noble steed!” 

He’s unphased by the tiny size, but he doesn’t trust land animals for tiny transportation anymore. 

Not since that time he and Loki escaped sword-point marriage in Alfheim aboard rats. 

It wasn’t the rats that trouble him. The rats were good and valiant creatures, bravely defending their homes from the invading hordes of snakes. 

Enormous snakes. 

Thor still wakes up in a cold sweat from that one. Loki has been teasing him about it for over 250 years now. Garter snake, indeed! 

Thor would sooner retire to the countryside and battle dragons for the rest of his days. 

All that appears on the internet of Tiny Thor’s Excellent Adventure is a few blurry pictures of what looks like a freaked out pigeon being chased by Mjolnir. 

Mjolnir doesn’t become tiny. It’s already imbued with the kind of magic that only allows for one kind of change, and that change is mostly directed at whoesoever wields it, and all that jazz. 

But a tiny Thor doesn’t so much throw the hammer as the hammer throws Thor these days. They’ve worked out an arrangement of sorts for the duration. 

So Mjolnir whistles through the air in the wake of a pigeon, waiting to be told what to hit. 

Loki, surprisingly, is not actually responsible for the tiny size of everyone present. In fact, he’s tiny himself, or as tiny as one can be while wearing a two and a half centimeter tall horned helmet. 

HE hates the raven.

And not only because the damned bird tried to pluck the helmet off his head and only succeeded in carrying him away to its nest along with all the other shiny and utterly worthless pieces it's collected in its thieving life. 

Loki doesn’t trust it. 

Growing up to all those tales of another Loki in another time will do that to a god. 

A green plastic cocktail sword stuck through a ball of glittering tin foil mocks him in the sun. He sits on it and waits patiently for the raven to return.

Natasha hasn’t been bothered by the raven, and it’s been mostly behaving itself around her. It’s smart, like most ravens, definitely smart enough to know not to grab something that stung its beak a second time. 

So it’s not that surprising when a doll sized raven seeks out a doll sized Natasha and huddles grumpily on her shoulder, preening its tiny feathers. 

Natasha doesn’t ask it what happened. For one, it’s a raven, and it probably couldn’t answer her. (She’s not discounting the possibility it could, all things considered in the current possibly magical situation they’re all in.) For two, Natasha knows the signs of a wounded ego, and there’s no reason to add insult to the raven’s injured pride. 

Bruce has left the building, checked out, off duty until further non-magical notice, leaving Hulk to deal with the completely unreal repercussions of being tiny. 

Dr. Bruce Banner, essentially, has had it with magic, Dr. Frankenstein experiments, and anything else that makes perfectly normal, sane human beings go hulkish or itty bitty. 

Hulk himself doesn’t really actually notice all that much. 

But the occasional pedestrian pauses in their morning commute, sure, for one brief second, that a tiny roar emerged from the sewer grate. 

The whole shrunken Earth’s Greatest Heroes thing is one of those things that isn’t supposed to happen, you know, one of those things where Dr. Steven Strange has to work alongside SHIELD scientists. (They all hate that) 

So they’re keeping it on the down-low and working around the clock to bring the Avengers back to size. 

Tiny Phil is adamant. And because he’s being all reasonable at them, here they are going into day three.

Except Fitz, who was inexplicably turned into a gerbil twelve hours ago. 

They’ll take care of that after. 

Clint is the one who got them back into Avengers Tower. But he is so, so out of his depth here, and his depth has gotten a lot deeper lately. 

So, after that incredibly impressive display of circus skills and Sacajewea-level sherpaing them all through the vents yesterday, he deserves some me-time. 

And it turns out that a bath sponge makes a crazy comfortable pool lounger in his bathtub, rubber duckies are harder to steer than they look, and there is not, in fact, such a thing as too old for being afraid of getting sucked down the drain. 

Bucky ends up bleeding, beaten, bruised. And slobbered on. A lot. He’s not complaining, though, because he’s wiped out, and this is Clint’s dog, therefore, he’ll probably end up at Clint’s place, which is good enough. 

He lets his body go comfortably limp in Lucky’s jaws and flexes the fingers on his metal hand in satisfaction. 

He kicked that cat’s mangy tail all the way to Jersey.

Steve is acutely aware that it’s not fair that he seems to be the only one present in the tower who didn’t shrink, so he’s been tactfully staying out of the others’ way and doing what he can to find out who’s behind this so he can…

Um… 

Hit them a lot until they reverse whatever it is they did, or something. 

He sighs and picks up the phone again, crossing Norman Osborn off the list and dialing his contact in Latveria.

In the end, it’s not a villain. Scott apologizes profusely once everyone is back to their normal size, and he looks so guilty nobody has the heart to yell at him. 

They conclude the meeting over a decimated box of normal-sized donuts with a single maple-frosted survivor that has a bite taken out of it and mutual agreement to be the bigger people they are (ha) and move on with their normal-sized lives.

No harm, no foul. No fowl, either, as the raven booked it through the first open window the moment everyone was restored. 

“Uh, hey,” Scott calls before they can, in fact, leave the room. Improbably, they all stop, turn, and listen against the urging of whatever latent voices of self-preservation they still have. “Does this mean I’m still going to get to be an Avenger after all?”


End file.
